


Bone of Contention

by WriteDragon (lightspire)



Category: due South
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, M/M, Margaret Thatcher's POV, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 00:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightspire/pseuds/WriteDragon
Summary: And you grabbed it by the hand, And he pulled and pulled 'till someone pushed him and he fell.





	Bone of Contention

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary lyrics are from the song “Bone of Contention”, by Spirit of the West.
> 
> Written for the ds_flashfiction community on Dreamwidth, “due South Soundtrack Challenge”. April, 2019. 
> 
> Thank you to Bluehaven4220 for beta.

A train. A roar. A moment of heat and confusion, locked in a captive embrace with Death (and you — same thing, perhaps).

Do you even know?

You fell. You died. It was my fault, my responsibility.

You lived. You always do. I’ve learned not to ask.

A kiss. A mistake. A rumbling, thundering, runaway — hurtling towards disaster.

I wanted to be liked, even loved, which is something I cannot afford.

There’s no room in this serge for two.

Damn my ego.

—————---

I hear you. 

You say things, innocent and forbidden: “Red suits you,”; “It brings out the green of your eyes,” and “Sirloin.” (Good grief, pull yourself together, man.)

I see you. 

Your nervous stammer. Your cheeks, flushed crimson. Your stupid tennis shoes. Waves of raven hair, thick as seal-fur. Wolf’s eyes, blue and luminous as sea-ice, and just as cold. I wonder what they see in me.

I know you. 

You are a feral thing. A changeling, fae creature, not quite of this world. You patrol the edges, stalking the veil, the whisper-thin line between seen and unseen, between life and eternity. The voices speak to you. Sometimes, late at night, I hear them too (but I will never tell).

Another misunderstanding … so many. 

Damn your uncertainty. And mine.

——————--

I am your superior officer.

You, Ice King, dare call me Queen behind my back. But I am heat and fire, red as the uniform I wear (occasionally) — trapped behind a wall, a fortress built of necessity (always). 

I am a bitch, a whore; too hard, too soft; too hot, too cold.

I am tired of losing, no matter what I do.

An impossible wall. An impossible choice.

Damn it all to Hades.

__________

A ruse. A rush. A spiky-haired, peroxide-blond, electric-raw punk. 

Everything changed that day, scorched in fire, house burned to ash.

You fell (for him). You lived (for him). 

I’d learned not to ask.

We said goodbye, without words, beneath a silent ocean of stars.

It hurt. 

It was for the best. 

The End (I wish you well).


End file.
